


Accepting Fate

by totalizzyness



Series: Soul-Mates [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Mutant, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totalizzyness/pseuds/totalizzyness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after his best (read: only) friend found his soulmate, Erik still refuses to accept Fate's will that his own mate is out there and ready to be found. Instead, he's determined to prove to the world he doesn't need a soulmate. He doesn't <i>want</i> a soulmate.</p><p>Meanwhile, Charles has given up all hope of finding his soulmate, and he'd be fine with that life choice if not for all the disgustingly happy couples surrounding him.</p><p>(Part one of the 'Verse doesn't need to be read to understand this one)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first apology is for the rambly exposition thrown in here and there; it's hard to explain some things without it coming across pointless waffling to fill space. 
> 
> My second apology is for the fact this fic is unbeta'd. There shall be mistakes, they are all my fault. I've tried to catch them all and correct them, but if I've missed any, please do drop me a comment.

Erik Lehnsherr lived his life as a penitent man. He didn’t take enjoyment from things that most people did; he took his coffee black, he took cold showers and dried himself with scratchy towels. He spent 18 hours of the day working, and the rest begrudgingly doing necessary human things. He’d wake up every morning at 5, slip into his gym clothes and go for a half hour run; when he returned he’d start a pot of strong coffee and go for a cold shower, standing under the freezing spray until his skin was red and stinging.

Whilst his position at Shaw Enterprises paid quite handsomely, he rarely used his money for anything superfluous. He lived in a small one-bedroom apartment in the "so-so" part of the city; it wasn't high-end but he certainly wasn't slumming it. The apartment itself was sparsely decorated, with only essential furniture; there was no TV or radio, only a laptop he used for work. He didn't want his home to be 'welcoming'; he wanted anyone who’d find themselves in his apartment to leave as quickly as possible.

Azazel was the only person who ever found himself in Erik’s apartment somewhat regularly, but did his best to be in and out as soon as possible. He wasn’t keen on Erik’s way of living; he thought his friend was too hard on himself. He had no reason to be so self-abusive, but Azazel knew his opinions on the matter were ignored and he’d probably get himself an extra stack of work for his efforts. Azazel had learnt quickly that his role as Erik’s only friend didn’t give him the right to worry about him, or lecture him on his life choices.

He was especially not allowed to harass him about finding his soulmate. He didn’t understand Erik’s loathing of soulmates, but tried subtly to change his mind. In the beginning Erik had calmly told him to shut the fuck up about soulmates; the more Azazel carried on waxing lyrical about one day finding his soulmate Erik got more and more angry, threatening to cut his hand off, or sand the name off his arm; eventually, he adopted an air of resignation any time Azazel mentioned them, occasionally flinging pens or rubber bands at him.

\--

Erik never understood why he agreed to spend evenings at Azazel’s apartment, they always ended the same. Azazel would nag him about finding happiness, show off Janos like it’d somehow change his mind and then drink too much and drag Janos to their bedroom and have noisy sex whilst he still sat staring at the wall. He’d been great at suddenly accepting Janos into his life, but he hated being treated like the one girl in a group of friends who’d yet to be kissed. He just didn’t want to find his mate, it wasn’t that difficult a concept to understand. Plenty of people found happiness with people who weren’t their mate, it was becoming increasingly more common, too. Erik, however, didn’t want to find happiness at all. He didn’t have the time or want for a relationship, he preferred being alone; had done since he was a boy.

“Such a terrible existence, being alone,” Azazel frowned, his arm tensing around Janos’ waist. Erik shrugged.

“I’m fine. And I’ve always got you two if for whatever unlikely reason I need company.”

Azazel opened his mouth, cut off before he started by Erik pointing a menacing finger at him.

“You fucking dare mention the kind of easy company I’ll find with my soulmate and I’ll cut you!”

Janos frowned, reaching across the kitchen island to pull the block of knives out of Erik’s reach. “Always, you threaten us. We just want to see you happy.”

“I don’t want to be happy!”

Azazel scoffed, moving back to the stove to check the progress of their meal. “You will meet your mate one day, Erik, and you will discover how empty you were before them.”

Janos nodded. “Fate is against you.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe in fate.”

“You should. How else would you explain how Azazel and I meet?”

“I from Russia, Janos from Mexico; without fate we wouldn’t have met.”

Erik rolled his eyes again. “It’s got nothing to do with there being no jobs in either of your countries that brought you to the biggest city in America?”

“Please; if I’d wanted job security I would have gone to Germany. _Fate_ brought me to New York.”

Erik said nothing, not wanting to concede the point; however, Azazel took his silence as his concession and grinned.

“Maybe you have just not met your mate because you never had friends. Janos and I will help.”

“No! I don’t want to find my mate!”

“No, my friend, we must return the favour. After all, it is because of you we found each other.”

“And I’ve learnt my lesson, I do all my own paperwork now.”

Janos chuckled. “Accept your fate, Erik. You are destined to meet your mate, whether you like it or not. Only your untimely death will stop it.”

Azazel tutted, moving over to a cupboard to pull down some plates. “Now now, my sweet, do not be giving him ideas.”

“He will not kill himself,” Janos smirked, going to help his lover. “He is too proud. Loves himself too much.”

Erik scowled, reaching for the bottle of wine to top up his glass. “I’m right here, I can hear every word you two idiots are saying.”

“See, he does not deny it,” Janos grinned, pecking Azazel’s cheek as he edged around him to pull out cutlery.

“I don’t have to put up with this level of abuse.”

“Stop being baby and go set the table,” Azazel huffed, turning back to the stove. Erik huffed too, pushing himself up from the counter, helping Janos set the table whilst Azazel plated their dinner. It was the same every time Erik was over; they’d commune in the kitchen, talking over glasses of wine whilst Azazel cooked their dinner, then they’d retire to the living room and the real drinking would start. Erik rarely participated in the heavy drinking, preferring to keep a clear mind, instead drinking one or two more glasses of wine, whilst Azazel polished off one and a half bottles of vodka by himself. Erik sometimes wondered how Janos put up with his mate when he got so drunk, but judging by the way he sometimes hogged all the tequila, he assumed he didn’t mind too much.

Erik hoped that if by some God awful twist of fate he _did_ find his mate and they somehow bonded, that they’d have similar, if not matching opinions on how to behave. He couldn’t be doing with an alcoholic mate, or an overly affectionate mate, or a needy mate… or a mate in general. He found it was best to just steer clear of people all together.

\--

Charles flexed his wrist, groaning when he heard the loud click of his tendons returning to their original position. Damn his mother for making him learn calligraphy, and damn Raven for emotionally blackmailing him to write up her wedding invitations. Penning one hundred and fifty invitations didn’t sound like a lot when she’d first asked, pouting her bottom lip and fluttering her eyelashes. He wished he had the ability to deny her things, especially things other people could do -- he’d quite happily pay the man from the wedding fair $700 to do the invitations for her as a wedding present, but apparently that was seen as “scamming out of getting her a real present” and wasn’t allowed.

He knew it was all his fault. He’d been the one to bring his sister to the university with him one day; he’d been the one to introduce her to Hank, his lovely but shy assistant; he’d been the one to urge Raven to take Hank to lunch, to try and get him to come out of his shell. He hadn’t banked on them being soulmates, but they fit, and it was lovely to see them so hopelessly in love… for the first week. The week after was tiresome, and the week after that Charles found it hard to be in the same room as the couple. He’d long since given up on finding his own mate and seeing the two people he was closest to find theirs at the same time was too much for him to handle.

He bounced back quite quickly, his happiness for his sister and best friend outweighing his feelings of loneliness and despondency. He wasn’t surprised when Hank came to him, telling him of his plans to marry Raven -- soulmates usually married within months, even weeks of finding each other; he was, however, surprised when Hank asked for his permission to marry Raven. Charles had laughed, given him a good shake and told him he’d be insulted if he didn’t marry Raven. But now he was doing most of the wedding planning. Somehow. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d found himself in that position.

“Knock knock.”

Charles looked up to his office door, smiling at his sister hanging onto the doorframe. She grinned back, pulling her arm from behind her back, brandishing a small, string-tied box.

“Got you a thank you present from the café you like.”

“Ooh! Is it one of Moira’s perfect peanut-butter cupcakes?”

Raven pulled the string loose, opening the lid. “Better. It’s four!”

Charles grinned, reaching to take the box. “Thank you, Raven. This almost makes up for the intense cramp in my wrist.”

“Sorry… you know they don’t have to be done until Wednesday.”

“I know. But I have other things to be doing too. If I don’t get them done now I’m afraid I’ll put them off and you’ll only have…” He quickly skimmed through the pile of already written invitations. “Forty-one people at your wedding.”

Raven shrugged, digging her finger into the frosting of one of the cakes, “I can always just invite everyone via Facebook.”

“Raven-”

“I know, Hank would have a conniption fit but… it’d save you all the work.”

“I don’t mind. Honestly.”

Raven narrowed her eyes, licking the frosting from her finger. “I know you mind really, Charles. You’re just too nice to say. But I promise, when you finally find your mate, and you have the most extravagant wedding of the millenia, I will fucking bend over backwards to make sure it’s perfect. You’ll hardly have to lift a finger.”

“Thanks for the non-promise, Raven. We all know I’m not going to find my mate.”

“Not with that attitude! We’ve got my bachelorette party next Friday, and I am going to be all over every hot guy in the hopes one of them is yours. And if that fails, when I get back off my honeymoon I’m going to take you to every party and sign you up to every website. That Erik of yours can’t hide forever.”

Charles groaned, hiding his face in his hand. “I knew it was a mistake letting you see my wrist.”

“You know, I looked at those handwriting analysis things; this mate of yours seems like an asshole.”

“No graphology analysis can determine whether someone’s an asshole.”

“Well, it said he’s uptight and reserved and aggressive… and clearly he’s avoiding you, so obviously, a-grade douchebag of the highest breed.”

Charles quirked an eyebrow, his lips thinning. “And you’re hoping to set me up with him?”

“Well… With your charm and overall niceness, maybe you could bring him back from the darkside? And hopefully he’ll be able to instill some asshole in you. You are allowed to say no, y’know.”

“Okay… I’m saying no now. To your company. I love you, but please go home to Hank, do whatever it is you two do, and let me get these invitations done.”

Raven sighed, slipping from where she was perched on his desk. “Fine. See you tomorrow?”

Charles nodded, pushing out his cheek for Raven to peck before she left his office. He huffed out a long sigh, looking back down to the invitations he was to write. He wished he still had Raven’s optimism about finding his mate. He was well past the usual age that soulmates found each other and had had one too many run-ins with the wrong “Erik”. He hated having a mate with such a common name, and one that was clearly avoiding him as Raven suggested. Charles rarely said no to any opportunity, he knew as well as others the way fate worked, and whilst there wasn’t a set point in time where mates definitively met, there were actually several points in time where they could possibly meet. Charles’ mate had obviously skipped over every one of these potential meetings; Charles accepted his mate obviously didn’t want to find him. It still hurt though.

He’d been so excited as a young boy the day his dark smudge had formed a name; he’d been one of the first in his class to get the name of his mate. He wore his wristband with pride, adopting the habit of rolling up his sleeves just to show it off. As he got older everyone else got their names; and as he got even older everyone he knew found their mates. At first he’d been optimistic, he had plans to go to college, his mate could be there. Once he graduated without meeting his Erik, he thought perhaps he’d find him at Columbia. The closer to 30 he got, the more his optimism waned, until he simply gave up hope.

\--

Azazel collapsed bodily into the chair opposite Erik’s desk, smirking up at his boss. Erik slowly raised his head, a scowl etched onto his face, darkening when he saw Azazel’s grin.

“No.”

Azazel just grinned harder. “What makes you think I was going to ask you anything?”

“I know you.”

“So you know what next Friday is?”

“I know I don’t care.”

Azazel huffed, snatching Erik’s pen from him. “It is the anniversary of the day Janos and I meet.”

Erik sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “No.”

“We are going out for drinks.”

“I’m not coming.”

“Yes you are. From now on we are taking you out more. We want you to meet your mate.”

“I don’t want to!”

Azazel flicked the pen back at Erik’s head. “Erik, you know you have no choice.”

“You know, you’re the perfect example of why I never wanted friends.”

“I shall take that as a compliment.”

Erik groaned, rubbing his forehead as Azazel winked at him and wandered back over to his own desk. He’d hoped after their drunken conversation the previous weekend that Azazel would have forgotten about trying to drag him out to the real world to find his soulmate. Clearly not. He dreaded the prospect of finding his soulmate; he knew how fate worked, and he’d avoided it for too long -- the more he avoided it, the higher the chances were of him finding his mate. He’d turned down almost every opportunity offered to him, afraid he’d meet his soulmate, but Janos had raised the point that the longer her avoided it, the more likely fate would make them meet at a Starbucks or something just as mundane.

Sighing, he tried to get back to work, forcing all thoughts of soulmates out of his mind; however, the work was too dull, allowing his mind to wander. He thought about what his mate would look like, if he’d know it was him the moment he saw him. He thought back to what Azazel and Janos had told him. Azazel had said people thought their soulmate was the most beautiful thing in the world, which was easy for him to say with a should-be underwear model for a mate; but Janos had confirmed what Azazel said. Erik was willing to trust Janos as Azazel wasn’t conventionally attractive by any standards, a little intimidating if anything, with the face only a mother could love. They’d also explained the electric atmosphere around them, and the breathtaking first kiss -- Erik had argued he didn’t plan on kissing his soulmate.

He was jolted from his thoughts by a perfectly manicured hand snapping its fingers in front of his face.

“Lehnsherr! I’ve sent the lovebirds on their break, you’re treating me to lunch.”

Erik sighed, looking up at Emma. “I have work to do.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been staring into space for ten minutes. Come on, I’ve got some advice to impart.”

“I don’t want-”

“I don’t care what you want, you clearly need guidance, and Brangelina aren’t going to help.”

Erik frowned, slowly getting to his feet. “Who’s-”

“I like to think Quested in Angelina.”

“Surely he’d be Brad?”

“Nope. Angelina has that sultry sexyness which Azazel just doesn’t have.”

“Right…”

Emma smirked, hooking her arm through Erik’s and led him through the office space to the elevators. They ended up at a high-end bistro, Emma shoving him into a corner booth away from the rest of the patrons for privacy.

“Straight to it,” Emma huffed. “I’ve heard Janos talking to Azazel about you and you not wanting to find your mate.”

Erik shrugged, running his finger idly around the rim of his coffee cup. “It’s hardly news.”

“I want to know why. And don’t give me that bullshit about not wanting happiness. I don’t buy it for a second.”

“Well then I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Emma sighed, pushing up the sleeve of her pristine, white jacket. “How about, I’ll tell you my story, and you trust me with yours.”

Erik shrugged again.

“Right, here…” Emma slipped off her wristband and held out her arm for Erik to inspect. His eyebrows shot into his hairline when he saw the clear, unmarked skin.

“You’re-”

“Yes, I’m a widow… His name was Troy. I thought I was too good for a soulmate -- a bit like you -- especially one with such a white-trash name like Troy. I finally met him when I was 28 -- don’t even attempt to start to guess my age or make jokes or I’ll sign you up for a soulmate site quicker than you can blink.

“Anyway… Do you have any idea how good it feels to find your mate? You feel like nothing bad can happen, you feel like you can take on the world and win. There’s honestly no better feeling.

“We were only together for a month, He owed a lot of money to the wrong people, and well…

“It hurts, Erik. Every day. Especially when the name started fading; I can still see it if I look hard enough… You think you deserve pain, that you want pain… Not like this.”

Erik sighed, pointedly avoiding Emma’s eyes. “I know. My father died when I was young, I still remember what it did to my mother… And it’s exactly why I don’t want to find my soulmate. I know I’ll fall in love and I know it’ll be my downfall.”

Emma frowned, resting her hand over Erik’s. “Erik, sugar, it’ll hurt anyway. Even if you never met him, if he died now, you’d feel it. Don’t deny yourself happiness because you’re afraid of it hurting eventually down the line. Being alone isn’t as great as it’s cracked up to be… And think about him! What if your mate is trying his damned hardest to find you! Doesn’t he deserve happiness?”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to care, that’s the point! I shouldn’t have to be responsible for another person! I’d rather be independent.”

Emma quirked an eyebrow, slipping her wristband back on. “No you don’t. You really don’t.”

“Look, Emma, I can’t be responsible for someone else. I don’t do well with people-”

“That’s because you don’t try! You’re fine with Azazel. You adapted to Janos almost instantly. I like to think we pass for friends to onlookers who don’t know better… Your soulmate is your other half. They’re tailored to suit you and your needs. And by extension, their friends and family will slip into you life just as seamlessly… And trust me when I say the sex is fantastic.”

Erik sighed, draining the last of his coffee. “Thank you, Emma, but no thank you.”

“You’re an idiot, Lehnsherr.”

“I’m sure I’ll live.”

Emma rolled her eyes, deciding to let the matter drop. They ate quickly and quietly when their food finally arrived, hurrying back to the office.

Erik groaned upon entering his floor, noticing Janos sat on Azazel’s desk, Azazel stood between his legs, hand on his thighs. “Janos, get to your own floor!”

“I have ten minutes left of my break.”

Azazel smirked, pushing his fingers through his mate’s hair. Erik huffed.

“Go spend it elsewhere then, where I don’t have to look at the two of you.”

Azazel frowned, looking to Janos and nodded. Janos smiled meekly, pressing a quick kiss to his mate’s lips before slipping off the desk. Azazel followed Erik into his office, ignoring the stern glares he was receiving.

“Dinner did not go well?”

Erik’s lips thinned as he lowered himself into his chair. “My private life is just that, Azazel. My--Private--Life. Could you and Janos please refrain from discussing it like it’s any of your business?”

“Erik-”

“No, Azazel, just stop. I don’t need Emma Frost dragging me to dinner to tell me I need to find my mate. You all just need to stop!”

Azazel nodded, knowing when not to push. “Very well, but you must do one thing.”

“There’s nothing I need to do, but I’ll humour you.”

“You find your mate, and you tell him to find happiness without you. Everyone deserves love, and if you are not going to give it to him, he needs to know. He does not deserve to be abandoned without explanation.”

Erik rolled his eyes, rebooting his computer. “I’ll get right on that.”

“And you are still coming on Friday, if we have to drug you, so be it.”

“Whatever.”

Azazel sighed, marching back to his desk, slumping down in his seat. He stared at his computer monitor, glaring at his reflection, hitting the mouse to get rid of the grey time-out screen, instantly smiling at the picture of Janos that appeared. He could hear Erik in his office, slamming filing cabinets shut, dropping heavy folders onto his desk. He wondered if, perhaps, Erik’s mate was better off not meeting Erik; he couldn’t imagine anyone being suited to deal with him for the rest of their lives. Looking down at the paperwork stacked by his computer, Azazel started thinking. He pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly dialling Janos’ number.

“Azazel.”

“Janos, I need you to do me a favour.”

“Yes?”

“I need you to post something, I would but Erik has blocked all soulmate sites. I will email you a scan of his signature…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, guys, for waiting patiently. I'll try to not leaving you hanging too long for the next chapter.

Charles happily strolled through Raven’s apartment to the kitchen, carrying a box of 150 perfectly written wedding invitations. He’d sat up the previous night adding final touches, double and triple checking there were no mistakes -- everything had to be perfect for Raven. He found his sister sat at the breakfast bar (which was used for everything but eating breakfast), staring sadly at her laptop.

“Here they are, Raven, 150 perfect invitations, just as you specified.”

Raven’s head shot up, a myriad of emotions flashing across her face. “Oh, Charles, thank you, um… just set them here.”

Charles frowned, stepping forward to deposit the invitations on the bar. “Is everything okay? Has something happened?”

“No, well… I don’t-... I’ve found something.”

“Yes…?”

“So… I sometimes browse through the mating sites, to see if yours is hiding away somewhere-”

“Raven!”

“I haven’t signed you up! I promised I wouldn’t, but uh… well…” She motioned at the screen, moving to one side as Charles came to stand by her to look at what she wanted to show him, It looked more like a craigslist ad than a dating site.

“That’s your name, right?”

Charles nodded, eyes glued to the accompanying photo of a signature, practically identical to the one on his wrist.

“I’m sorry.”

He finally managed to tear his eyes from the picture to read the surrounding text.

> _‘To whomever bears this name on their wrist, I am sorry to tell you your mate does not wish to be found, If you yourself were not looking for him, then disregard this; if you were I suggest looking elsewhere for love._
> 
> _‘He does not believe he is in need of a mate, and is not honourable enough to tell you this himself. I post this as a friend concerned for his friend’s choices. He is not aware of this post, but I felt it necessary you be contacted, whoever you are._
> 
> _“I hope you find happiness, you do not deserve the negativity he would have brought into your life.’_

Charles jumped at Raven’s hand touching his arm; he huffed a resigned sigh and flipped the laptop’s lid shut.

“Charles, I-”

“I need a drink.”

Raven watched her brother stumble over to the wine-rack, pulling free a bottle, reading the label before nodding, moving to find the corkscrew. She wasn’t shocked when he forewent a glass, drinking straight from the bottle.

“Nineteen-fifty-eight, good year,” he sighed, reading the label again.

“Charles-”

“So what’s next? I brought a ton of stamps, shall we get sticking?”

“Should we not talk about-”

“About how the mate I’ve been pining for has abandoned me without even meeting me, didn’t even tell me himself, and now there’s an empty space inside of me I’m hoping to fill with a fifty-year-old Merlot which would go great with a roast beef dinner but instead I’m drinking it straight from the bottle like a tramp… Why would we talk about that? My darling sister has found her soulmate, she wasn’t deserted via the internet, and is getting married! This is supposed to be a happy occasion!”

Raven sighed, pulling her brother into her arms. “I’m so sorry, Charles, I always hoped your mate was just shy, or wasn’t even in the country, but… He obviously doesn’t deserve you.”

Charles let out a shuddering breath, his fingers digging in to Raven’s shoulders. “He hasn’t even met me, Raven. How does he know?”

“Really, Charles, he doesn’t deserve you-”

“Plenty more fish in the sea and all that; any more clichés you’d like to plague me with?”

Raven gave Charles a soft pinch. “Don’t be an ass, Charles.”

“I’m sorry… Come on, let’s plan your wedding, I don’t want to think about this… if you’re good, I might even share some of my wine.”

Raven forced a smile, ushering her brother over to the kitchen table. “I think you’ll find it’s my wine, actually.”

\--

Erik was suspicious his friends were up to something, ever since he’d shouted at Azazel, neither he nor Janos had mentioned soulmates. They’d still demanded his presence at their anniversary celebrations, but their reasoning for his presence had gone from him finding his mate to him being supportive of his friends. It had been several days since Azazel had even said the word “soulmate”, which was a worrying record. He didn’t trust Azazel and Janos as far as he could throw them; they were definitely up to something.

They still rubbed their happiness in his face, Janos spending an unusual amount of time down on their floor, pressed against Azazel in some way. Erik just figured it had to do with their upcoming anniversary; he found it hard to believe it had been two years already. Two years since Janos had stumbled gracelessly into their lives; two years since Azazel’s permanent scowl had been replaced with an idiotic, besotted grin. Erik had to admit it was nice to see his only friend happy, despite all his grumblings to the contrary, and he understood deep down why Azael wanted the same for him.

He wondered if deep, _deep_ down, he _did_ want to find his mate; if he secretly hoped Azazel would succeed in finding Erik his mate. He’d usually follow such thoughts with a punishing tug of his chest hair, an attempt to nip his brooding behaviour in the bud, telling himself off to letting his friends in his head. However, the more he tried not to think about it, and punished himself, the more he thought about it, and daydreamed, and fantasised. It worried him how much he’d started imagining a faceless man fitting into the empty spaces in his life; sprawled on the sofa reading; greeting him with a cup of coffee after his morning run; little things that he was finding harder and harder to deny he wanted.

The only thing that kept him grounded, that reminded him of his choice to not seek out his soulmate was the photo of his parents on his dresser, and seeing Emma stalk about the office with her blank face. He didn’t want the pain that came with losing one’s soulmate, determined to not become a bitter, empty husk of a man -- he could usually hear Azazel in his head telling him he already was.

\--

The bar Azazel had chosen was the seedy sort, with too-dim lights and music that consisted largely of a pounding bassline. He’d assured Erik it was a classy joint, but clearly their notions of what “classy” were completely different. The only well-lit area of the club was the bar itself, the back wall of which was lined with mirrors to reflect the bright lights back into one’s eyes, effectively blinding them, thus making the whole thing redundant.

“Go get us some drinks! Janos and I shall find somewhere to sit!” Azazel grinned, shoving a wad of bills into Erik’s hand. Erik watched with a blank expression as the couple manhandled each other over to the line of booths, stopping intermittently to suck the other’s internal organs out through their mouths. Sighing, Erik wandered up to the bar, managing to find a decent spot to not get blinded, waiting patiently for the bartender to see him.

The bartender was short in stature, but well-built, with an excess of body-hair and a menacing frown. Erik mused that working in club like this would definitely be enough to quell one’s happiness. He watched as he poured two shots of vodka for a customer, downing one himself with no recoil; he seemed like the kind of man that Erik could have been friends with -- the term “friends” used very lightly. The bartender finally noticed Erik and stomped over, draping his towel over his shoulder.

“What can I get ya, bub?”

“A vodka, a tequila, and a bottle of bleach.”

The bartender barked out a laugh, grabbing two shot glasses. “Looking to kill yourself, or just like the taste of bleach?”

Erik sighed, watching him pour the drinks. “The former.”

“Not here of your own free will then, huh?”

“Friends’ anniversary, and as the moron who got them together, I’m required for the celebrations.”

“My condolences. You guys picked a Hell of a night, got a bachelorette party in tonight.”

Erik groaned, dropping his head onto the bar. “Fantastic.”

“So, what’re you drinking? I’ve got a nice little thing under the bar, 150 proof…”

“Um… no. Just a whiskey, please.”

“Suit yourself, bub, but you’ll be wanting it later. Lots of screeching, drunk women.”

“Until then…” He slid across some money, muttering for the bartender to keep the change and took the drinks over to the booth Azazel and Janos had managed to snag. Their bodies were pressed close together, Azazel muttering in Janos’ ear. Erik huffed, placing the drinks down on the table before flopping down ungainly. He dragged his glass closer to him, glancing around the bar to check his surroundings. The dancefloor wasn’t particularly large, but the stage was open for people to dance on too. Two walls were lined with booths, the largest of which Erik noticed contained the bachelorette party.

“Oh Erik, you returned!”

Erik looked back at Azazel, quirking an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“We thought you would have run.”

“I considered it, but with you paying for drinks, I figured I’d wait until I was sufficiently wasted before stumbling home.”

“I thought you don’t like to drink.”

Erik shrugged, picking up his glass, watching the liquid swirl around. “Some days, I really need to pretend I’m dead.”

“Very well… To us!”

Janos toasted with Azazel, Erik shook his head, gulping his drink down, wincing at the burn.

\--

Charles had the first genuine smile on his face since he’d first gotten the news about his soulmate, even if it was barely a smile at all; Raven was sat beside him, grinning inanely, wearing a pink feather boa and bridal veil and cheering loudly. Their friends were sat around them, alcohol already coursing through their systems; the women also wearing feather boas, along with Alex. Charles had a sash draped over him, reading “maid of honour” -- Raven had tried forcing a tiara on his head but he’d drawn the line there.

Pouring himself another margarita, Charles took a look around their group of friends, feeling very out of place. Everyone else had found their soulmate and was happy -- with the exception of maybe Moira who wasn’t quite sure how she’d ended up with Sean, seven years her junior with a bad marijuana habit. Alex and Darwin were smitten, Angel was glowing having recently met her soulmate in one of Charles’ classes, and Raven was, of course, due to get married. And he was alone, and would be alone for the rest of his life, unless he chose to find something close to happiness with someone else.

“Charles! Don’t be such a downer, it’s Raven’s party! Get some more vodka in you!” Moira shouted, pouring a shot for him. Charles forced a grin, holding up a placating hand.

“I’m fine, Moira, just got a little lost in thought.”

“You should take a shot anyway.”

She swapped out his margarita, grinning and waggling her eyebrows until Charles relented and drank the shot. The table erupted into cheers, Moira giving Charles a hearty pat on the shoulder. He let out an undignified yelp when Raven wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged him closer to her.

“Don’t you dare be miserable tonight, Charles. I’m going to find you a man tonight if it kills me. You don’t have to marry him, but at least promise me you’ll take him home and not let him leave until you can’t walk!”

Charles stared wide-eyed at his sister, trying to pry himself from her deceptively strong grip. “Raven! You should not be this invested in my sex life!”

Raven shrugged. “If I’m going to be even slightly invested, I may as well be fully invested. And you haven’t had sex in too long, it’s time for your dry streak to be over, and you’d better do it before your hand files for divorce.”

“Thank you, for being so crass… It astounds me we’re related.”

“Don’t play coy, you’re filthy and depraved!”

“Not as much as you.”

“You want filthy and depraved? I have tales to tell.”

“No! In my eyes Hank is a viginal unicorn.”

Raven laughed maniacally, easing up on her hold of her brother. “Oh Charles, that ship sailed a long time ago. Hank is actually quite kinky, let me tell you-”

“Absolutely not! You can bloody well fuck off! I’m going to go sit at the bar and drink away my sorrows. If you see a good looking man, do bring him over so I can reject him and continue my night.”

Sean slumped over the table, slapping his hand over Charles’ arm. “You’re a party pooper, Charles. A real pooper of parties. You see parties and you poop on them!”

Charles gave Moira a concerned look. “Is he… Should he be taken home?”

Moira shrugged, pouring herself another drink. “He’s good.”

“Right, well, I’m going to the bar.” Charles managed to pull himself up, wobbling a little at first and made his way over to the bar, dodging a few overzealous dancers. He slipped up onto a barstool, dropping his head into his hands, taking a deep breath.

“Need a stiff drink, bub?”

Charles looked up, peering through the gaps between his fingers. The bartender laughed, pulling down a glass from the shelf behind him. Charles sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Whiskey, please. A lot of it.”

“Want me to leave you with the bottle?”

“Please.”

“So… maid of honour, huh?”

Charles looked down, sighing at the sash, pulling it over his head. “My sister’s getting married.”

“So you’re the bachelorette party?”

“Yes, unfortunately… when did women get so frank about their sex lives?”

“I know, feminism, right?”

Charles choked out a laugh, ruffling his hair. “Well, no… I suppose… Obviously that’s not the issue… I think it’s because it’s my sister.”

“Always gross when it’s family. You don’t know the worst of it; I work here, I get all the tales. Want to hear about a guy who tried a bit of switcheroo with his woman and ended up shitting himself?”

“God no!”

“Neither did I.”

Charles sobbed into his hand, pouring some whiskey into his glass. “I didn’t need that image.”

“Drink it away, bub.”

“If I have nightmares I’m filing a lawsuit.”

The barkeep chuckled, moving away to serve someone else. Charles sighed, staring down into his glass. He passed time occasionally drinking, drifting off into his thoughts, and chatting with the barkeeper. Only once Raven wandered over to check he was fine and refresh the tables’ drinks.

Someone slumped heavily on the bar next to him, snapping his fingers for the barkeep’s attention. Charles glanced over his shoulder at the man, giving him an appreciative look; he didn’t look like he was enjoying his evening either.

“What can I get you now?”

“Was it a no before on the bleach?”

The barkeep laughed, drumming his fingers on the bar. “What’s it for?”

“My friends are getting a bit… intimate, you may need it later. Also, I wouldn’t say no to drinking it.”

Charles chuckled, turning to face the man. “I wouldn’t say no to some.”

The man turned to look at him, giving him an obvious once-over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Uh… Max.”

Charles chewed the inside of his lip; he knew when to recognise a fake name, debating whether to give one in return. “Um, Francis.”

“Logan. Not that anyone cares.”

Max gave the barkeep a smirk. “Apologies. A whiskey again, and… whatever he’s drinking.”

Logan nodded, wandering off to fetch another bottle of whiskey.

“Drinking away your sorrows?” Charles asked. Max slipped up onto the stool beside him, leaning closer.

“If I were, I’d be here for a week.”

Charles chuckled. “I’m with you there.”

Logan returned, plonking a bottle of whiskey between them. “Happy drinking… Pay me.”

Max smirked, pulling a wad of bills from his pocket. “Keep the change.”

“You’re very generous.”

“Oh, I’m really not… see it as compensation from my friend, for the upholstery.”

“Gotcha.” He gave Charles a quick look of concern before leaving them alone. Charles smiled as Max poured his drink.

“So… Max… What’s your story?”

Max shrugged, pulling his own glass closer. “I hate everyone and everything, and I’ve been forced here against my will because I involuntarily and accidentally caused my friend to meet his soulmate two years ago.”

“Hate everyone and everything, and you have a friend?”

“He’s one of the few people I can stand. I work with him, I have to.”

“Fair enough.”

Max smirked around his glass, eyeing Charles out of the corner of his eyes, taking a quick sip on his whiskey. “So… what about you?”

Charles huffed, pausing to gulp down his drink and pour another before answering. “I’ve been recently… dumped. Ditched, whatever.”

“Ah.”

“By my soulmate.”

“Wow, really? That’s… serious.”

Charles nodded, cradling his glass against his chin. “Yeah… Hasn’t even met me, but he still knows he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“How’d you find out?”

“Some dating site… My sister found a picture of his signature with a message… It’s currently battling it out with the death of my father for ‘worst moment of my life’.”

“I’m sorry.”

Charles shrugged, gulping down his second glass. “It’s not your fault.”

Max sighed, finally finishing his first glass. “I never really bought into the idea of soulmates… Just… the pain. The heartbreak of losing them.”

“Everyone’s afraid of that… I remember my sister, after she’d just gotten together with Hank she watched one of those stupid romantic movies without the happy ending… She cried for about four hours, sobbing into my jumper about how afraid she was to lose him and if it was worth getting with him at all.”

“Oh?”

“Obviously she decided yes. She’s never been so happy. She’d never trade it for anything… They’re getting married in a week.”

“My friends say I’m an idiot for being apprehensive, but… self-preservation and all that.”

Charles frowned. “Surely you must get lonely.”

Max paused, staring up at his reflection in the mirrors, ignoring Charles’ concern. “A little,” he finally admitted. “Not that I’d admit that to them… I have them, and I have my work. I’m fine.”

“But sometimes you lie awake at night, feeling like something’s missing?”

Max forced a smile, reaching out for the bottle of whiskey. “Yeah…”

“Have you never thought about maybe reaching out to your soulmate? Have you not considered the pain’s worth it?”

“Nope. I remember how empty my mother was when my father died. I don’t want that for myself.”

Charles sighed. “But… It was the same with my mother, but… the good times were so plentiful. My parents had a deep love for each other, and I see how my friends are with their mates and… you’ll always have those memories. The pain is always worth it.”

“That’s where we differ in opinions, my friend.”

\--

Erik ran his finger around the rim of his glass, smiling at the story Francis was telling him about his sister. He tried not to think about how much he was enjoying the stranger’s company and focused instead on what he was saying. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d suddenly clicked with someone like he had with Francis; he couldn’t remember the first time, or even any time. He could hear Azazel singing something smug in the back of his head but blocked it out, taking a swig of whiskey.

“So did it ruin your life when they got together?”

Francis laughed -- he had a beautiful laugh. “For a while. I hate the honeymoon phase.”

Erik chuckled. “Two years later and my friends are still in the honeymoon phase. Too many times I’ve come back to the office and they’re at it on his desk.”

“Hank was never the type. He was shy and easily flushed, and now I stumble on them in the cupboard or something just as high school cliché.”

“How wonderful for you.”

“Absolutely… I’m happy for them, obviously I am, but…”

“They could do well to keep their happiness away from you?”

“Exactly.”

Erik smirked, staring into his drink like it was the most fascinating thing he’d seen. “Do they nag you? About finding your mate?”

“Yes, sort of. I mean, I wanted to find him too, but apparently I wasn’t doing enough… and then the… _thing_ happened… and now she’s intent on finding me a nice man to settle down with, or, if failing that, a good shag.”

Erik choked out a laugh, coughing into his hand. “Excuse me?!”

“I know, a sister should not be so invested in her brother’s sex life.”

“I’ve had a therapist less invested in my sex life!”

Francis laughed, a full-bodied laugh, throwing his head back. Erik smirked at the reaction, finishing off his drink and refilling both his and Francis’ glasses. Francis let out a loud sigh, propping his chin up on his fist.

“So anyway… apart from being hilarious and attractive, what do you do?”

“I don’t think ‘being attractive’ is something that I do,” Erik smirked. “But… I work with architects… I’m the guy who tells the people who drew up the designs if they can build it, with what, where, et cetera.”

“Ah, so not an architect yourself?”

“Used to be, now I just boss them about.”

Francis smiled, holding his glass up to his lips, eyes locked with Erik’s. “So, are you responsible for anything I may recognise?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Francis chuckled, downing the contents of his glass, wincing at the slight burn that he hadn’t yet adjusted to. “I see how it is… Do you enjoy being difficult?”

“Very much so.”

“Are you going to give anything away?”

“Not without a fight.”

“Any specific venue in mind?”

“Well, not to brag, but there is a hotel I helped design not too far from here. They always have room for me…”

Francis leant closer, looking up at Erik through his eyelashes. “Is that so?”

“Do you not believe me?”

“Well, I suppose you’ll have to take me there, and prove me wrong.”

Erik grinned, slipping from his stool. “Very well. Is there anyone you need to notify of your disappearance, or shall we go?”

“Just a second. I should probably go tell my sister she can leave me alone about my life choices.”

Francis quickly hurried into the crowds, leaving Erik to slouch back against the bar and wait for him.

“So, he’s your soulmate, huh?”

Erik spun around, Logan was leaning on the bar, grinning at him. Erik shook his head, glancing back to the crowd. “No.”

“No? You’ve been scratching at your wrist pretty intensely since you met him. I’ve seen soulmates meet before, bub, they’ve only ever got eyes for each other, and let me tell you, he couldn’t take his eyes off you for two seconds.”

Erik curled his fingers around his arm, suddenly aware of the tingling in his wrist. “I didn’t come here for your advice, thank you.”

“He’s a nice guy. Don’t fuck him over.”

“He’s a grown man, and you’re not his protector.”

“You’re also an asshole.”

Francis finally emerged from the crowd with a coat and an definite blush on his face. He stepped up to Erik, straightening his collar. “Ready. Also, I hate my sister.”

Erik smirked, pulling his wad of bills from his breast pocket, stuffing three into Logan’s fist. “Nice chat. Come on, let’s go.”

Logan muttered under his breath as he watched the two men leave his bar. Erik quickly hailed a cab and bundled himself and Francis inside, rattling off an address to the driver. The drive was pleasantly quiet, neither man feeling the need to fill the silence with inane small-talk; Francis had his head against the window, watching the streets pass by, his knee bumping against Erik’s leg whenever the car jerked. Erik smiled to himself, feeling something akin to excitement brewing in his stomach; he wasn’t entirely sure what he was excited for, or even if it was excitement and not vomit. Francis was definitely attractive, even by his standards, and had actually made him laugh, which was, in and of itself, a rare feat.

The cab finally pulled to a stop; Erik paid the driver and led Francis into the building. The hotel wasn’t particularly fancy, the floors weren’t solid marble with gilded stairs, but it was definitely nicer than some of the hotels he’d stayed in throughout his adult life -- and the fact he’d helped create the building gave him a sense of pride.

Francis politely lingered away from the front desk, pretending to read the flyers and notices on the bulletin board whilst Erik got them a room; with a quick flash of his I.D. and a small amount of paperwork he and Francis finally made their way up to the room.

“Did you really design this hotel?” Francis asked, walking around their room, peering out of the window. Erik smirked, slipping his coat from his shoulders, draping it over the chair by the desk.

“Myself and three others.”

“It’s… pretty amazing. Did you design this room?”

“Perhaps.”

Francis laughed, wandering over to where Erik was stood, slipping off his own coat. “Still not giving anything away?” He dropped his coat onto the chair, making sure to take a couple of steps closer into Erik’s personal space.

“I’d hate to give everything away at once, a man needs some secrets, or he has no mystery.”

“I suppose.”

Erik smirked, raising his hand to push some of Francis’ hair back from his face, letting his fingers trail down the side of his neck. His stomach felt like it was no longer grounded, instead floating about inside him, his lungs rejecting every breath he took. Francis blinked up at him, fluttering his eyelashes more than necessary. He pressed his cheek into Erik’s palm, biting gently on his bottom lip.

“And what of _your_ secrets?”

“I don’t keep secrets,” Francis smiled; he hesitantly brushed his fingers up Erik’s side, curling them around his waist to pull himself a few inches closer, lifting his chin. Erik’s face softened as he looked down, staring straight into Francis’ eyes.

“Everyone has secrets.” Erik could feel their bodies drawing even closer, the space between them virtually nonexistent. The air around them was heavy and full of static, the hairs on the back of his neck were stood up on end. His eyes fluttered shut when his nose brushed against Francis’, their breaths mingling.

“I may have a few,” Francis murmured, quickly running his tongue over his lips. Erik felt like something was weakly repelling him from Francis, their mouths hovering just apart from each other, like the same poles of two magnets. He finally yielded, capturing Francis’ lips with his own, letting out a breath of relief through his nose. Francis moaned low in his throat, reaching his other arm to wrap around Erik’s neck, pulling their bodies as close as they could get, Erik curling his arm around his middle.

Erik felt as if his brain had switched off, his lips kissing back autonomously. All he could feel was tingling of his skin where he was touching Francis, and the empty feeling in his stomach, like all of his organs had vanished. He felt dizzy from the kiss, and an insatiable urge to get them both onto the closest flat surface.

Francis moaned again, pulling away enough to look up into Erik’s eyes. “Wow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I need your help... I have no clue how to introduce Erik and Charles **_as_** Erik and Charles. I know I want Charles to be the one to discover Erik's identity, but how? Will it be happy or angry or? If you guys want to throw some suggestions my way, I'm open to ideas. I have a rough idea, but any help would be appreciated (:
> 
> Comments are love!

**Author's Note:**

> Please do leave me feedback, let me know if things are working or not -- I'd rather not finish the story only to be told there's a huge plot hole. Comments definitely appreciated; I'll be starting the second chapter momentarily.


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